Mrs. Jo did not mean the measles, but that more serious malady called love, which is apt to ravage communities, spring and autumn, when winter gayety and summer idleness produce whole bouquets of engagements, and set young people to pairing off like the birds.

"Stay" is a charming word in a friend's vocabulary.

Jo's face was a study next day, for the secret rather weighed upon her, and she found it hard not to look mysterious and important. Meg observed it, but did not troubled herself to make inquiries, for she had learned that the best way to manage Jo was by the law of contraries, so she felt sure of being told everything if she did not ask.

…because talent isn't genius, and no amount of energy can make it so. I want to be great, or nothing.

My only answer is, if my grave stood open on one side and you upon the other I'd go into my grave before I would take one step to meet you.

You don’t need scores of suitors. You need only one… if he’s the right one.

...a capital patient, as she never died and never got well.